


The Weight of Us

by magnuspr1m3



Series: The Weight of Us [2]
Category: Captain America (Movies), Iron Man (Movies), The Avengers (Marvel Movies)
Genre: Angst, Bucky Barnes Recovering, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Compliant, Captain America: Civil War (Movie) Spoilers, Hurt Tony Stark, Hurt/Comfort, M/M, Post-Captain America: Civil War (Movie), Slow Burn, Steve Rogers Feels, Tony Stark Feels, Tony Stark Has A Heart, Tony Stark Has Issues
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2016-05-30
Updated: 2016-09-12
Packaged: 2018-07-11 02:43:25
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 6,007
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/7023961
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/magnuspr1m3/pseuds/magnuspr1m3
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>It hurt, seeing Steve again. Not that he had not seen him at all since then, but he had not come into such close contact. He sat at the back of the room, behind Steve, trying to keep his eyes trained directly at the screen, or at Ross. It was no easy feat, especially when Steve cast a wary glance back at him.<br/>God, he missed him.<br/>He loved him. Completely. But, apparently that was not nearly enough. And did that not sting? He gave that man everything he ever asked for, and then some. Well, not everything. Not openness, but he had assumed that Steve understood why. He wanted to be sure. Why would he announce a relationship before he was sure it would survive passed the fledgling stages? Especially with how they had argued before. Could the man blame him for being cautious? And rightfully so, in the end. Steve did not respect his feelings, not in the end. Tony knew he was not always the best in any relationship emotionally, and he should have never hit Steve back when dealing with the whole Ultron debacle… but he still loved him. God, did he love him.<br/>---<br/>Sequel to I'm Not Ready (Let Us Be Brave). You do not have to read that piece in order to understand this one, however.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Let Us Be Brave

It hurt, seeing Steve again. Not that he had not seen him at all since _then_ , but he had not come into such close contact. He sat at the back of the room, behind Steve, trying to keep his eyes trained directly at the screen, or at Ross. It was no easy feat, especially when Steve cast a wary glance back at him.

_God_ , he missed him.

He loved him. Completely. But, apparently that was not nearly enough. And did that not sting? He gave that man _everything_ he ever asked for, and then some. Well, not everything. Not openness, but he had assumed that Steve understood _why_. He wanted to be _sure_. Why would he announce a relationship before he was sure it would survive passed the fledgling stages? Especially with how they had argued before. Could the man blame him for being cautious? And rightfully so, in the end. Steve did not respect his feelings, not in the end. Tony knew he was not always the best in any relationship emotionally, and he should have never hit Steve back when dealing with the whole Ultron debacle… but he still loved him. God, did he love him.

And now Steve was looking at him like he killed his ma. That hurt.

Steve would understand this, the accords. He had to. Tony would get him to understand, to realize that it was the best option for now. He did not like it; of course not! He was still the same man that had refused to give the government his tech (although Rhodey had gone and fucked that plan completely). But, Tony knew when to admit defeat, when to bow his head a bit and accept the blame. That is what this was, after all. The Avengers finally taking the blame and responsibility for the casualties they had caused in their attempts at saving the world at large. Because they were not careful, not in the face of complete doom. And, while Tony had once thought no one could blame them for that, apparently he had been wrong.

So he was taking the steps to fix it. He was doing what he had to in order to keep the Avengers as the heroes they were, instead of being villainized like so many people wanted. Stark Industries was responsible for the Avengers. _He_ was responsible for the Avengers, for the casualties they caused, for all of the casualties his weapons has once caused, and now he was going to fix it. He was going to take responsibility, as they all should. It had never seemed like an option to sign the Accords. They were by no means perfect, but this was just a first draft. Changes could be made. Tony had plans for said changes at that moment already. They just needed to sign that first draft.

And then Steve had to go and say no. “The safest hands are still our own.” The blond was endlessly infuriating. He was not actually listening to Tony, or reading the Accords apparently. This was not the end of the Avengers. It was a fresh start. A chance at gaining the public’s trust once more. Yet, Mr. Holier-Than-Thou Steve Rogers could not sign it because “people have agendas.” No shit. Everyone had an agenda, and if this was Steve trying to say he did not, Tony was going to lose it.

Then he left. Just disappeared. It was not until later that Tony heard of his Aunt Peggy’s death. The funeral service was unfortunately too close to the time of the UN meeting regarding the Accords, however. Tony made sure to send a large flower arrangement. The woman had been like a mother to him. He hated to know she had gone, but it had felt like she had been gone for years by then.

.   .   .

Bucky blew up the UN building, killing twelve people and injuring dozens more. Or, he had thought so at the time. Everyone had thought so. They had called for the Winter Soldier’s capture, for Bucky’s capture. Everyone was given orders to shoot on sight. Tony had not gone and joined the hunt for Barnes, because he still loved that bastard’s best friend. He had known about Steve and Sam’s search for Barnes. He was not dumb. He kept track of all of them at all times. He knew everything they did, or rather, Jarvis had. J had kept him properly informed, of course. Tony had initially insisted on it just to make sure Steve no longer had any near death experience. They could not stand to lose their leader.

Then, he did it out of love.

He somehow kept Steve out of jail following his little stunt to save his friend, too. Also out of love. He had found those damned, old pens even, to reach out to Steve. What Steve said in response? “Is Pepper here? I didn’t see her.” It stung. How dare he?

Tony did not lash out, though. Not like he so desperately wanted. He kept a calm, level-head. He just talked to Steve, did his best to persuade him and tell him about his plans to change things, to even have Bucky transferred to a top of the line mental health facility. He had everything planned out, the perfect way to get them all back together and keep the world happy. They could still fix this, all of this.

And then Steve had to blow a damned gasket over him keeping Wanda confined to the compound. What was he expected to do? Let her run wherever she wanted and get attacked? To have to defend herself against civilians and inevitably make everything worse for herself? She was still technically not a US citizen, which he brought up to Steve. But, _no_ that was not good enough. Nothing was ever good enough for Steve when it came to Tony anymore. Admittedly, it mostly stemmed from Ultron, which was entirely his own fault, but that was beside the point.

One power outage later, and Bucky, Steve, and Sam were all gone. They vanished into thin air. Poof.

And Tony was left to pick up the pieces. Always him. Why was it always him?

He knew then that this would not end in an easy manner. There was bound to be a fight, no matter how much he did not want to. Thirty-six hours, Ross said. Thirty-six hours to get together a small team, because Rhodey, himself and Natasha would not be nearly enough with Vision and Wanda, their two heaviest hitters at the moment, currently staying in the compound. Natasha intended to get T’Challa on their side, but against two super soldiers and Sam, Tony would rather not take his chances. So, he went and called in a favor.

Well, not really a favor. He went and somewhat bullied a fifteen year old into joining. Somewhat being the keyword there, because if Steve had been there, he likely would have called it bullying. It was not, though. He had intended to get in contact with Peter Parker for about a week by that point in time, anyway. It was very noble of the kid to do what he was doing, to fight crime at such a young age with so much else going on. And the kid was extremely intelligent for his age, a chip off the ole block, as the saying goes.

But he was reckless, and working with subpar gear. If he were to die fighting some shit bag mugger, Tony would have never been able to live with himself. He could not let such potential go to waste. He had both potential as a future scientist and as a future Avenger.

(Tony wished Steve had been able to join him for recruiting Peter Parker. Steve would have adored the teen. Both were extremely selfless, and little New Yorker boys from humble beginnings.)

He felt dumb for bringing Peter along to that battle in Amsterdam in retrospect. He had intended to go easy on them, which was the only reason he had ever considered bringing Peter along. If he had known how much of a total shitfest it was going to become, he would have just left the kid back in New York. Nothing ever went as planned when Steve Rogers was involved, though. Finding Peter, just lying there unmoving, had frightened Tony deeply. As soon as he knew Peter was still breathing, and relatively unharmed, he benched him. Indefinitely, really. It was dumb of him to bring a fifteen year old along in the first place. He was risking the kid’s life, that very potential he wanted to protect.

He never could think properly when it came to Steve Rogers, though.

Steve Rogers, who had escaped, who he moved to chase down because there was no way he was letting him get away, letting him make this any worse than it already was. Tony was tired of this, tired of Steve just _not_ listening to him. He had tried to make it easy for him, for Bucky, for all of them, really. But, that offer had been tossed aside like it was a measly piece of trash. He had reacted as if Tony had not even tried to make it better.

He was so close. He had nearly caught up to the quinjet when it happened.

As if he needed to suffer even more loss. As if he deserved it, deserved even more torment and pain. Rhodey had been his rock, his everything before Steve; hell, he had been his rock before Pepper. Friends since college, since Tony was an awkward fifteen year old himself, thrust into a world he did not yet understand and wanting nothing more than to act out for attention. Rhodey had been there for him when his parents had died, had listened to his drunken complaining about his father taking his mom from him like he had taken everything else. Hitting Sam was a bit much, he would admit that. But Rhodey? Rhodey was all he had left now.

He threw a small fortune into making sure his friend would live, and have the best sort of life he could with the injuries he had suffered. That one his sole focus. He had to make sure Rhodey was alright.

And then the real doctor who had been meant to exam Barnes had appeared dead in a hotel room, along with prosthesis to make someone appear to be the Winter Soldier. The plot had thickened, and he needed to know where it was going. So, he headed to the only place where someone may have some intel.

The Raft.

He was only mildly surprised when Ross had said no to clearing Barnes’ name, of course. In hindsight, siding with the same guy who had spent years hunting down Bruce was not Tony’s brightest idea. He had not wanted to help them. He wanted the Avengers under his thumb, neutralized. It would only be a matter of time before Ross went after him, too. Tony had to act quick, if he intended to fix things.

Clint was the most upset with him, if the nagging and back-talking was anything to go by. Some of his comment hurt, especially the one about breaking your back. But, Clint was just upset. He did not mean it. He could not. They were friends.

Sam told him what he needed to know, thankfully, once he was assured Tony was not just going to go take down Steve. So, after simply lying to Ross and hopping on his helicopter, he left to Siberia. He was going to fix this, if it was the last thing he did.

.   .   .

That tape. God, that tape. It- it showed everything. He recognized the road immediately. He would have known it anywhere. To see his father, pulled from his wrecked car, broken and bleeding, look up to Bucky, to the Winter Soldier, and recognize? That nearly killed him. To see Barnes beat his father’s face in? That just dug the stake deeper. God, but to hear how his dear, sweet mom called for his father, then to watch as Barnes just reached down and easily choked the life out of her?

His heart stopped dead in his chest.

“No, Tony, Tony-“ Steve stopped him from lashing out, from attacking the man. He did not go through with the attack, turning instead to just stare at Steve. To just take in one look at the man he loved, knowing very well that the distress he was feeling was painfully obvious in his expression. Steve’s face, though, did not hold nearly as much sympathy as Tony had expected. No, just worry, but obviously not for Tony’s wellbeing. So, he asked.

“Did you know?”

“I didn’t know it was him.”

_Shit_. God fucking dammit, Steve had known. The man he had loved, the man he had wanted to build a life with, had known about his parents’ death this entire time. He had known and never told Tony, likely never even considered it. Steve claimed to have not known it was Barnes, but if he had kept knowing in general from Tony, who was to say he was not keeping the full truth from him now? He leaned in, teeth ground together. “Don’t _bullshit me_ , Rogers. Did you _know_?” He forced out, rage boiling up inside him. He wanted desperately for the answer to be no, that Steve had not known it was Barnes, and that he had only known they were assassinated by Hydra. The tears in those once sweet baby blues, though? Those let Tony know the answer before Steve even spoke.

“Yes.”

He lost his temper then, lashing out and fighting to kill, to get vengeance for his mother. She had been a sweet woman. She had loved him, and had always made sure that he had known that no matter how far away his dad sent him. And Barnes had taken him from her, taken her without any real justification. It was all just because she had been with Howard in that damn car. She was just collateral damage.

(Was that not what had gotten them all here in the first place? Collateral damage caused by the Avengers? Casualties of war?)

The fighting was brutal. He was older now, and even with the suit, way out of his league. But, he fought like this was his last fight ever. It could very well be, after all. He did not matter to Steve, apparently. He doubted that he ever truly had. He had been something fun, a distraction, a stress reliever of sorts. Someone to keep Steve occupied while he waited to find Barnes, his dear Bucky. That much was evident, with Steve’s simple. “He’s my friend.”

“So was I.”

The past tense hurt, but perhaps it was for the best. Perhaps Tony was better off without Steve, without the secrets. He was not innocent in that respect, but his had never been quite so big. His had never affected Steve like this one affected him. God, he loved Steve, but maybe this really was for the best. Steve had shown his hand.

The fighting resumed just as aggressively as before. It did not last nearly as long, though. Steve had him down soon enough, and suddenly he was just striking Tony’s face, again and again and again. _This is how I die_ , he thought. The helmet was shattered, revealing his terrified and bloodied face as he just stared up at Steve. This was not the Steve Rogers he had fallen in love with. This man – this _monster_ was going to kill him. Steve pulled the shield high above his head, poised to strike. Tony was too tired to move, hurt too much. He just held his hands up, eyes wide with shock. This was it. Steve was going to kill him.

He did not, though. The shield slammed down into the reactor core of the suit, effectively cutting most of its power. Tony sagged in relief almost, just staring after Steve in tired disbelief. The man pulled the shield from his chest and moved to grab _Bucky_ , leaving Tony there like the piece of trash he must be to him. He just started to leave, to walk away from him like before. So Tony called after him, yelled about how he did not deserve the shield. How his father had made it, his father who had loved Steve like a brother and searched for him until the day he died. Howard Stark had always loved Captain America, but Steve Rogers? He was the real golden boy. Tony was glad he was not alive to see this, though. Captain America, the criminal. Captain America, the man who nearly killed his son and tore apart the Avengers all for one man, the same man who had killed Howard years ago.

Steve just dropped the shield and moved on, taking with him the last broken shards of Tony’s heart instead.


	2. There are Thieves...

Two months. It felt like an eternity but was barely a breath, as far as the world was concerned. Two months of throwing himself into helping Rhodey, and trying to resurrect the Avengers. Thankfully, there was nothing that required more than himself, or Vision. Because, the Avengers were essentially gone. They had left with Steve. They had all left him. Now, it was just him, Vision, and occasionally Peter. Only occasionally, because Tony did not want him getting too mixed up in all of this. He was just a kid. He did not need the government breathing down his neck when he should be more focused on girls and tests.

It was Peter who found Tony, a few weeks after Steve had broken the others out of the Raft, drunkenly clinging to the phone and note the man had sent him. The kid had nearly tucked tail in his awkward little manner and left, unsure of what to do with a distressed Tony Stark. He eventually moves to sit stiffly beside him, reaching for the nearly empty bottle of scotch beside him and moving it to his other side. “M-Mr. Stark, c’mon. Let’s uh, let’s get you to bed, yeah? It’s late, and you seem upset, and Aunt May always says that sometimes it is best to sleep it off when you’re this sad. So, uh, c’mon. You have a bed here, right? Somewhere?” Peter is reaching to take the note and the terrible flip phone from him, and Tony is suddenly curling away, wrapping himself around them and shaking his head.

“No! No, don’t- they’re mine. They’re mine.” He mumbled, shaking his head. His fingers circled tighter around them, paper crumpling up in his hold.

Peter’s hands were up, shaking his head. “Yeah, okay, they’re yours. I won’t touch ‘em unless you want me to, okay? Maybe you should put them down, though. Just to sleep, Mr. Stark. Just for a little while. “ Peter was insistent. His hands, not nearly as worn from work as Tony’s but with much smaller, new calluses developing, pried at Tony’s arms. He was uncurling him, straightening him out and pulling him up onto unsteady feet. Tony still clutched the letter and the phone to his chest, still let little silent tears slip down his face.

Peter let out the occasional soft sigh as he maneuvered Tony to one of the many bedrooms in the compound; thankfully one that no one had ever occupied. Tony briefly wondered why the kid had not simply thrown him over his shoulder and dropped him there. It would have been much quicker than the stumbling they had managed together, and the occasional stop when Tony’s stomach began to protest. He certainly could have. Peter probably would have given Steve a run for his money with how much weight he could lift, and Peter was not nearly as buff as Steve, nor did he have nearly as much weight training experience. Perhaps Peter cared enough to leave him some dignity.

Peter cared.

And that had been a startling thought, some Tony had contemplate for at least another week afterwards. This kid, whom he had pulled out of his safe home and into a disaster zone. He had essentially uprooted this kid, for his own gain. And the kid still idolized him, still cared. Peter still trusted every word that came out of Tony’s mouth, for some god forsaken reason.

Why had Steve never been able to care for Tony that way? Looking back on it, most of their relationship had simply been a physical relationship. They did not do dates, or spend time alone towards the end of it. Hell, for about three-fourths of the relationship, they would simply meet up for sex, cuddle a bit, and then go their separate ways again. The start had been nice, sweet. The times when Steve would just come sit with him in the lab, drawing Tony, or the bots, or just whatever came to mind while Tony worked. And part of him knew that Steve had to have cared for him, obviously. Steve Rogers did not seem like the type to be in a relationship only for the sex. But, while he had complained many times about Tony not trying to do anything about their relationship, Steve never did either, not until that sudden kiss before their last battle with Ultron. Steve had only ever whined about wanting things to change, but did not actively seek to change them.

Tony wound up spending a lot of time with Peter, taking him under his metaphorical wing and showing him everything he knew. He was the son he would likely never have in many ways. Peter was a good kid. If Tony had it put in his will that the kid was to be his heir to the company, well, Peter would not know that until he died anyway. Which hopefully would not be for at least another twenty years. At least.

When Tony was not showing Peter the ropes, or doing something for Stark Industries, he was working with Rhodey, doing the most he could to get his friend back on his feet. The exoskeletal legs he made for him worked extremely well, but Tony wanted Rhodey to be without them. Unfortunately, the doctors did not seem hopeful. Most of them said that Rhodey was lucky to walk at all, even with the exoskeleton. That was not the answer Tony wanted, of course. So he looked into other doctors, experimental treatments, anything that looked even remotely promising.

Rhodey’s answer was always no.

Tony did not get it. Refused to, really. Why would Rhodey not want to be better? How could he accept defeat so easily?

It was not defeat to Rhodey, though. Not the way he explained it, at least. Just a casualty of war. (And god, had Tony not had enough of those already?) He knew the possibilities going into it all. This was something he knew could have happened, and a lot better than death, or full paralysis. Rhodey insisted he was fine, was able to function perfectly well with the exoskeleton’s assistance. It was a bit difficult at times, but he could get by perfectly fine like that. “It’s not like my legs fell off, Tony.” Rhodey would remind him frequently. This was not the life he wanted for his friend, though Rhodey always told him that it was fine.

Tony was eternally grateful for Vision and Peter’s assistance with Rhodey’s physical therapy, because it gave him time to occasionally slip away. He would move away to his office, a hide away of sorts for him now. He would lock the door behind him, drift towards the desk chair, and just fall into it. His head would fall back against it, pulling in a few deep breaths to try and quell the rising anxiety. Sleep was difficult, and that was starting to grate on him. Every time he tried and closed his eyes, all he saw was Steve. Steve, hands flying at him relentlessly. Steve, snarling and holding the shield above Tony, poised to strike. He relived that moment the shield struck the arc reactor, effectively destroying it and his heart. Then Steve leaving him, abandoning him over and over again.

He spent a lot of time in his office contemplating just burning the letter and smashing that damn flip phone. Its screen always remained dark, not having been turned on once since Tony had opened the package. The genius feared what he may find if he turned on the phone, which was a totally irrational fear. He realized that, but still could not bring himself to do it. Yet, he could not just get rid of the damned thing. He refused to turn it on, to even considering using it, but he also refused to get rid of it. He would not. It was his last connection to Steve.

Well, that was not entirely true.

.   .   .

Wakanda was a very welcoming place, all things considered. There were some who looked on them with dismay, but no one was openly hostile at least. That made their stay here a little better for most of them. Not Steve, though. No, the welcoming people of Wakanda somehow made it worse. He, for some odd reason, missed the rude people of New York’s streets, the open glares and occasionally snappish remarks when you bumped into the wrong person. He did not deserve the welcoming grins and polite greetings wherever he went.

He was a menace. He was a criminal.

Without Bucky, though, he felt like nothing. He had only just gotten his friend back, _really_ gotten him back. And then suddenly, there were nannites, and Bucky was deciding to freeze himself again. He thought he was too dangerous. He did not trust himself. He did not trust Steve. Steve was not sure which part hurt more, really.

T’Challa had been impossibly helpful, assigning a whole team of scientists to Bucky, getting everyone a place to live in Wakanda, and even relocating Clint’s family to the country so the archer could be with them again. It was amazing the hoops the other jumped through just to make sure they were all happy. T’Challa was risking his country for them, for people he had been fighting against not too long ago. He had wanted to kill Bucky, and now he was doing everything to save him.

So why was Steve not even remotely happy?

He knew why. It all stemmed back to Tony. Tony, who he had loved deeply, still did if he was completely honest. Tony, the same man who had once kept him hidden, a secret from everyone they trusted. And then he hit him, something Steve had not expected at all.

The very same man who once said he did not trust a man without a dark side. A dark side that he had once claimed to be something else, but he was wrong. He knew he was wrong, if the memory of Tony cowering in fear below him was anything to go by. That haunted him when he tried his best to go to sleep at night. Tony, brown eyes wide and fearfully, face bruised and bloodied, with his hands thrown up before him. At the time, he had been too focused on stopping Tony to dwell on it at the time. His one thought had been that he needed to save Bucky. Even if that meant having to take out Tony at the time.

God, he was no better than Tony.

He had yet to apologize really, or anything. Just that note and a phone. He would not blame the other if he had simply thrown them both away. He certainly had not tried to contact Steve. He kept the flip phone’s mate on him 24/7 in case Tony did, and the phone had not made a sound once. God, Tony probably hated him after everything that went down. Hell, he would not be surprised if Tony had hated him since his rejection right after the compound had been officially opened. He had not been extremely nice about, although he certainly could have been ruder.

But, Tony had offered him the one thing he had never dared to hope for. A chance at settling down. And Steve had still been too wounded to accept it. He loved him, more than anything, but he had not felt comfortable or cared for in their relationship for a little while by that time. It still had its moments, of course. But nine times out of ten? Steve was waiting for Tony to leave him.

Two months in, and he finally mustered up the courage to send Tony a text. His heart ached and he felt so alone. He just wanted something. Someone. Anything. So, he broke down and sent Tony one text. Only two words.

_I’m sorry._

Two weeks later, and he would still not have a reply.

He did not need Tony anyway.

(Or, he told himself that at least. He had been saying that for over a year now, though. Saying that, and still struggling a lot of the time to believe. He loves him. He loved him, and he ached not having him nearby. He ached knowing that the other likely hated him. And Steve hated that he probably deserved that.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Next chapter will be out by next Friday. Hope you all enjoy!


	3. ... Who Rob Us Blind

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Life is a thing that happens occasionally and I apologize. This one is a short one, sorry, but the next one is longer. I should have that completely finished in a week.

Three weeks after the text, and the phone rang in Steve’s pocket. He had nearly dropped it in his haste to remove it from his pocket. He thought he broke it when the phone cracked under the force of him mashing the answer button, but he held it to his ear anyway and spoke.

“Tony?”

God, he sounded desperate. His voice was breathy and rushed. He just wanted to hear the other, even if it was to have the other yell at him, curse him again, tell him he hated him. He just needed to hear Tony’s voice. Just one more time, if that was all the other would give him. He just felt so impossibly alone here, even surrounded by all these friendly people. And if one person had always managed to make him feel as if he was not alone, it was Tony. It was always Tony.

The voice that answered him was not Tony, though. It was young, impossibly young, and after a moment, Steve realized it had to be that Spider kid, the one from Queens.

“Who is this? What sort of name is Nomad?” The questions came quickly, loaded with nervous energy. “Why are you bothering Mr. Stark? Are you trying to blackmail him? Is this about the Captain America thing? He did _nothing_ wrong! M-Mr. Stark is a saint!”

The kid hero-worshipped Tony, it seemed. Oh goody.

Steve pushed aside the disappointment that Tony had not called him and answered. “This is… a secret. I need your word you won’t tell anyone who this phone calls, Kid. Got it?”

“… no. I won’t- if you’re hurting him, or threatening him, I won’t keep quiet.” Good kid, Steve thought at that.

“It’s Steve.” He said anyway. Tony would keep the kid quiet, worst case scenario and all. “I sent Tony the phone as a sorta apology. In case he ever needs the rest of the Avengers, so he can contact us.”

“We don’t _need_ you.” The kid had snarled before the line went dead.

He hated Steve. The kid had been so nice, a bit naïve, too. But, Steve could not blame him for being mad with him. While had had seemed awed by being in the presence of Captain America, he apparently seemed to really like Tony; then again, who did not? Tony was a charismatic guy. It was hurt to not like Tony.

And Steve had beat the shit out of him. Of course, Tony had given as good as he got. Steve had actually needed stitches for a cut on his face, not that it would scar or anything. He almost wished that it would. He deserved to look as ugly and terrible as he felt. From the sound of it, he had caused a lot of turmoil on base. That was to be expected. Tony… god, Tony. Was he drinking as bad as he used? Steve had never really witnessed Tony go overboard with alcohol, but he had heard about it from Natasha. She had pulled him aside one night during a party, where Tony had decided to go through a whole bottle of scotch in the first hour, warning Steve to keep an eye on him.

“He doesn’t know how to deal with emotions sometimes, especially if he is hurting.” She had whispered, actually looking worried. It was rare to see, and it really bothered Steve. What exactly could she be referring to? What had happened to make Tony so dependent on booze at one point in time. “Watch him. He doesn’t really trust me that much. Not after before. But he trusts you.”

 _Not anymore_.

.   .   .

Tony was so deeply engrossed in a new suit design for Rhodey that would work with his exoskeleton that he did not notice Peter’s presence for twenty minutes. He simply worked on, barely even paying attention to what he was doing now due to his lack of sleep. He accidentally closed out of the design when he heard a small little hmph behind him, whirling around and staring wide-eyed at Peter. The teen stood there for a second, hands shoved in the pockets of his jacket. Suddenly, he was just moving forward and talking loudly, hands out and waving _something_ at him.

“- and y’know, I thought it was weird at first, that you had such an _old_ phone. Like, you’re Tony Stark, you were light years ahead of this before it was even invented.” Tony stared at Peter in confusion for a long moment, wondering why there were anxious tears gathered in the corners of his eyes and a quiver to his form as he paced. “I wanted to respect your privacy, b-but I turned it on and there was a _text_ and-“

_Oh god._

Peter was tossing the phone onto the table before Tony, and the engineer had to resist the urge to snatch it up and make sure it was alright. He had to stop himself from scrambling to protect his last connection to _him_ and to just listen to the teen before him. “Y-you said that he was the bad guy, that he was wrong, and he needed to be _stopped_. So- so _why do you have that?_ ”

And he could not blame Peter for being upset with him. The kid had idolized Captain America, idolized Steve. Tony had gone and convinced Peter that Steve was the bad guy. That Steve needed to be taken down. He had shattered every dream that kid ever had about Captain America being the ultimate hero, and fighting alongside him. Tony had taken Peter’s childhood hero from him all for the sake of some sort of pissing match between him and his ex.

He had hated people for lesser things at Peter’s age.

Tony did his best to ignore the slight quiver of anxiety in his limbs and lungs, and gave Peter the only answer he could. “Because I’m weak, and can’t let go.” It was true, after all. No matter how much he hated Steve, he could not move on. He had loved the man. Loved him enough to risk everything for him, to get in over his head with the Sokovian Accords to begin with because he thought it was what _Steve_ would want him to do. Because it felt right.  “Because I have major mental issues I am only just starting to come to terms with, and that phone is the last connection I have to him. The shield… That was not Steve. That was Cap. The whole world knows that. B-but that phone… that is Steve, the stupid, over-bearing mother hen that I-I-“

_That I used to love._

Used to.


End file.
